Emendations
by Little Lushy Lion
Summary: "Our love is like a snail. It's slow and people don't really notice it often, but when push comes to shove it could probably kick some ass. Except for the salt thing. We should probably avoid salt." One Troy/Britta "deleted" moment per episode, mostly presented as vignettes or drabbles.
1. Pilot

**Author's Note: **This story will be updated regularly, most likely daily. Each chapter is a different drabble for a different episode, and I promise to try to stay as close to canon as possible. Some chapters are longer than others. Bear with me through the first dozen, because the lack of interaction between Troy and Britta in the first couple of episodes means that this story is going to have a slow start.

* * *

When Troy walks into the study room, the first thing he notices is that there are already four other people there. One is some old dude, another is some chick who sits like there's a rod fused to her spine, the third is the Indian kid who invited him, and the last has blonde hair, but she's facing the other way. He sits by the old dude because that chair is the closest, but as a cloud of Drakkar Noir invades his nostrils, Troy is immediately regretful. He can't move though, because then everyone would wonder why and he doesn't want to look like a jerk. Not unless the situation calls for it, at least.

Before he can pretend-cough as an excuse to cover his mouth and nose, the Indian kid turns towards him. Or maybe the guy is Arabian. Troy's not entirely sure what the difference is, but he's not about to ask.

"You came," the guy states, his voice robotic. Troy just nods in an attempt to play it cool. The blonde finally turns his way, a grimace firmly set into her features. He thinks she might be trying to force a smile, but she's too distracted to put much of an effort into it.

Even bothered, she's still the hottest one in the room. Not that there's much competition (seriously, the other girl is smiling at him really creepily).


	2. Spanish 101

**Author's Note: **Yeah, two updates in what is technically one day. I went to bed after posting the first one though, so it feels like another day. Anyway, this was already written and I figured there was no point in delaying posting it. This one's Troy-centric again, but the next one's Britta-centric and so is the one after that. Enjoy!

* * *

Pierce causes a major scene, and though Troy would be pretty content just laughing at the guy trying to dog paddle in a fountain, Abed is inching away and Troy feels obligated to follow him. He hates being alone, after all.

A moment later and they're standing right next to Jeff and Britta.

Troy starts to ask what's going on before he realizes that he still has a piece of tape covering his mouth. After ripping it off and whimpering at the burning sensation, Troy leans towards Abed.

"Uh, what are we doing?" he mumbles out of the corner of his mouth.

"I'm analyzing Jeff and Britta's current emotional states for future references to character development," Abed replies without missing a beat.

"Right," Troy nods, though his eyebrows are furrowed. "What were we supposed to be protesting, anyway?"

Suddenly, Britta bursts out, "Does anyone here actually know what they're protesting? Or care, for that matter? People are being murdered because of a lack of basic human rights all around the world, and it's like all you misogynists see is the chance to take a trip to Panty Town! Don't you care about…"

She's still ranting, of course, but Troy's tuning her out now. The political talk should make her less attractive - and it would, if it were anyone else - but her eyes are alight with ferocity and her cheeks are flushed an impressive shade of pink and the look suits her. Troy almost wishes he could force himself to pay attention, but even if he did he knows he wouldn't understand a word she was saying. Besides, most of her accusations are directed at Jeff. Maybe the political talk doesn't make her less attractive, but the idea that she's very much involved in some kind of back-and-forth with Jeff does.


	3. Introduction to Film

**Author's Note: **Another day, another update! I'm considering posting the next chapter today as well, but it depends on whether I write another future drabble. Anyway, this chapter takes place during "Introduction to Film." Enjoy!

* * *

Everyone's filing out of the study room after the latest study session, and Britta just so happens to be walking next to Troy. She doesn't usually have much of a reason to talk to him, so she's a little caught off guard when he suddenly speaks up.

"So, it's totally cool what you're doing for Abed and all, but doesn't it kind of creep you out when he calls you his mom?" he asks, his head tilted earnestly.

Britta smiles graciously before answering, "Well, it's not my favorite thing. But making a difference in someone's life takes commitment." She nods as if to affirm her words, but it almost feels like she's trying to convince herself more than Troy. Maybe Abed was getting on her nerves, just a little bit.

His voice drops to a whisper when he replies. "You're not gonna marry Abed, are you?"

"What?" she squawks, her eyebrows furrowing. "No!"

"Oh," he nods in understanding before walking the opposite way. She supposes the label "stupid jock" isn't exactly inaccurate.


	4. Social Psychology

**Author's Note:** I don't really have a comment worth noting. But I would like to extend a special "thank you" to Marrrrrrr/illbeoutback, who continually reads and reviews and is awesome. If you haven't already, check out his writing.

* * *

"See you later," Britta smiles, leaning in to kiss Vaughn one last time. When she pulls back, she immediately turns away and starts towards the parking lot. Vaughn yells "Lates!" to her back, and she forces herself to grin instead of flinch. Who says "lates," anyway?

She only makes it halfway there when suddenly a series of heavy and quick footsteps begin steadily approaching. Britta steals herself for some dramatic and "romantic" display with Vaughn, but when she glances backwards she sees Troy instead. A sweaty, shallowly breathing Troy.

"Are you okay?" she calls, stopping in her tracks. He doesn't slow down, instead trying to maneuver around her and just narrowly avoiding a collision.

"Hello? Troy?" she continues, now screaming at his back.

He doesn't bother turning her way, but she's pretty sure she hears him sob a loud, "She promised butt stuff!"

Britta's eyebrows pull together. Greendale is stranger than any of the countries she's been to, which is really saying something because Britta's been to at least a dozen countries. She thinks.


	5. Advanced Criminal Law

**Author's Note:** I wrote ahead a little bit so I figured I'd make good on promises and post twice today. This time I'd like to thank kbsaysthings from tumblr, who is wonderful. Also, there's a hint of Jeff/Britta in this because it's relevant and canon. Enjoy!

* * *

The moment Britta steps into Spanish class, all she can feel is the weight of dozens of eyes being trained on her. She refuses to back down or feel subconscious (she's better than that, she's always been better than that), instead making her way to her seat a little too quickly. And maybe shifting her weight once or twice while in the seat. But those are her only tells, and someone would have to be paying way too much attention to even notice them. She glances Jeff's way, just in case, but he's already toying with his phone. Something like relief laced with just a dash of disappointment rushes through her, and she starts to sink into her seat until she hears a loud "psst!" and practically falls out of the chair.

Turning around, she sees Troy is trying to lean over the aisle. The look on his face is pure curiosity, and Britta doesn't even need to hear his words to know what he's about to say.

"You're still in this class?!" he exclaims, eyes wide with wonder.

"Yes," she says slowly.

"How did you not get kicked out?"

"Long story," she sighs, glancing at Jeff again. "But all I have to do is get counseling."

Troy's eyebrows furrow at that, and when he speaks next he points at her with his pencil. "Cool. I mean, now you can still be in the group." It should sound condescending, but it's merely a statement.

"I guess," she shrugs and turns away. When Chang finally starts the lesson, Britta feels just a little bit better about all of the unwanted attention. At least she knows a couple of pairs of eyes aren't shooting lasers through her skull.


	6. Football, Feminism, and You

"And then I ran into the end zone, with, like, no resistance," Troy finishes, his hands raised to emphasize how great a feat this was. Pierce looks somewhere between lost and falling asleep, but there's no one else in the room and Troy really needs to talk about football. Now that he's joined the team, his excitement levels are through the roof.

As if on cue, Britta walks into the study room. Her eyes appraise his jersey as she sits down, so Troy puffs his chest out a bit.

"So, you joined football again," she says, half statement and half question.

"Yeah," Troy grins, "And it's awesome."

She nods, and it looks like she wants to say something else. After a second of waffling between vulnerable and guarded, she spills, "I once dated a guy who played football. Well, I thought he did, at least. He was always talking about tackling guys and touchdowns, but it turned out that he went to a male strip club on the weekends called Fumble and Snap. So I guess he was just struggling with his identity, not a football player."

Troy watches her in horrified silence until Pierce leans towards him and loudly proclaims, "First the cheating and now this. We gotta find a new lesbian."


	7. Introduction to Statistics

Abed's not around and Troy's bored, so when he scans the room and spots Britta standing in a corner, it only seems natural to approach her.

"Hey, squirrel," he starts, his voice lilting at the end in a request for confirmation that he'd guessed her costume correctly.

"Right. Michael Jackson?" she asks.

"No," he scoffs. "Eddie Murphy! Duh!" He rolls his eyes at her obliviousness. She was older, sure, but he never would've guessed that she was completely out of the loop. Scratch that. He totally would've guessed that she was completely out of the loop.

"Oh," she sighs. "I guess the mustache should've clued me in."

Troy nods in agreement. "So… you didn't want to be a nurse or a police officer?" He doesn't mean to sound hopeful, but he also wouldn't have minded if she'd gone the slutty route.

Britta gasps in exaggerated horror. "Halloween is not an excuse to traipse around in revealing clothes!"

"Uh, it kinda is."

"Is not!"

"I think you just missed the point of Halloween like you missed the point of my costume."

"Whatever," Britta says, quietly irritated.

"Want punch?" Troy offers in peace.

She sighs before mumbling, "Yes."


	8. Home Economics

**Author's Note:** This one isn't really anyone-centric, and it includes all members of the study group. For some reason Annie's not actually mentioned, but just imagine that she's there being quiet. Possibly staring at Jeff, who knows.

* * *

"Pierce, Pierce, Pierce, Pierce you're a 'b!'" Troy sings, swaying in his chair to the rhythm of the song.

"Would you quit singing that?" Pierce barks. His voice is decidedly more pleasant when he turns to Jeff and asks, "Can I sue Vaughn for using my name in his song?"

Jeff shrugs before setting his phone down. "Normally I'd be ecstatic for the opportunity to exercise my superior lawyer capabilities, but this conflict is just too pointless for me to be involved."

Pierce stares for a long moment before leaning towards Shirley and asking, "Does that mean I can or can't sue?"

Shirley shrugs just in time for Troy to begin singing again, this time with Abed accompanying him by tapping out a beat on the desk.

"Shut it, Lionel Richie," Pierce orders.

Britta finally feels an urge to cut in, saying, "Hey, let them sing. It's better than 'Getting Rid of Britta.'"

Troy begins humming a rendition of that song, but the moment Britta recognizes the tune she slams a hand down on the desk.

"Okay, shut up."

"What?" Troy looks around innocently. "Why'd everyone turn against me all of a sudden?"

"Because you keep singing songs that are dissing members of the group," Britta explains.

"But they're so catchy!"

Britta rolls her eyes and crosses her arms.


	9. Debate 109

**Author's Note:** The following takes place right after Britta made Troy cry. It didn't turn out quite how I envisioned but hopefully it's still enjoyable.

* * *

Britta's apologies are useless in assuaging Troy's delicate emotional state, so he marches away to find Abed. He walks all the way to the back of the library before remembering that he already passed Abed, which means that a large chunk of the student body just saw him cry for no reason. Knowing this only serves to incite a fire in Troy's veins, and when he finally finds Abed he points an accusing finger in his face.

"You were right! Shirley's right!" Troy exclaims. "What magical powers do you have? If you're a superhero and you're keeping it from me, you are in big trouble, mister."

Abed crooks his neck, eyeing Troy over his laptop. "I'll tell you what I told Shirley: I don't have any kind of special powers."

"Lies!" Troy returns. "What happens next? Do I fail that English 101 paper? I knew I shouldn't have written about UFOs."

"I don't know what grade you'll earn on your paper," Abed sighs. "If it helps, Jeff and Annie kiss and Shirley is chased by a werewolf version of you in the next episode."

"I'm a werewolf?!" Troy sobs, collapsing in the chair across from Abed's. "Wait," he perks up suddenly. "I'm a werewolf! Cool!"

"Probably not," Abed insists. "I really can't predict the future." He indicates his notes before continuing, "Look, the episode I'm planning right now has you crushing on Britta."

Troy's eyebrows rise high on his forehead in response, a grin breaking out and morphing into uncontrollable giggles. "Okay, that is ridiculous," he nods.

Abed raises a hand, palm up, as if to emphasize that his point has been proven.

Britta wanders up then, a furrow in her brow. "Did he lose his mind?" she asks, eyeing Troy as his shoulders quake with laughter. One moment he's crying, the next he's maniacally entertained. She can't keep up.

"No, I just told him that I couldn't predict the future unless it meant he was going to develop a crush on you," Abed explains.

Britta raises an eyebrow, torn between amusement and slight offense. "You haven't been getting into my cigarettes, have you? Because some of those aren't actually cigarettes."

Abed cocks his head in confusion, so Britta just nods and mumbles, "Forget it."


	10. Environmental Science

**Author's Note:** Two in one day. Booyah.

* * *

"So, when you called me cold… Did you mean _cold_ cold or cold like I'm a difficult cookie to crack but most likely lovable underneath it all?" Britta starts, catching up to Troy and tugging on his sleeve.

"Cold cold," he shrugs. Her eyebrows furrow and she pouts in dissatisfaction, and when Troy catches a glimpse of the expression he sighs. "Face it, you're calculating and harsh. And it's scary when you rant about politics."

"I rant about important things!" she defends, throwing her hands up.

"I'm not saying it's a bad thing. Well, it kinda is, but you're still in the group, aren't you? We all like you anyway," Troy explains, stopping and turning towards her. "Everyone in the group has flaws. Being cold is one of yours."

Britta considers this for a moment, shrugging when she decides that his answer has merit. No one's perfect, and the study group had attracted some very unusual and invariably flawed characters. Knowing she is one of them just means that she's that much more a part of the group.

"I guess that's true," she says finally. "Kind of like how you're overemotional and prone to crying."

"What?" Troy exclaims, "I'm… I am not overemotional. I just have… allergies." Britta quirks an eyebrow in disbelief. "Okay, fine. But there's nothing wrong with a grown man crying."

"Nothing at all," Britta agrees, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Besides, you fill the quota for crying in the group so I don't have to."


	11. The Politics of Human Sexuality

**Author's Note: **This is by far my favorite drabble in the series so far. And as a side note, I have no idea why I assumed Shirley and Britta were referring to girth instead of length in that scene with the mannequin's anatomy. Whatever, enjoy! And reviews are not required but definitely recommended. ;)

* * *

The day after the STD Fair, Britta walks into the study room and finds that Troy's the first one there. She's slightly surprised that Abed's not there as well, because Troy and Abed are usually attached at the hip, but then she remembers that Abed has a film class that sometimes runs over time on Tuesdays.

When she sits down, she tries to think of something to say. Troy shifts in his seat and nods at her. Britta nods back and crosses her legs. Troy crosses his arms. It's still silent.

Britta clears her throat. "Oh!" she announces, and the sound of her voice shocks Troy into kneeing the table. He bites down on his thumb, pretending that there aren't tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

"Yes?" he squeaks.

"Sorry. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he insists. "What were you gonna say?"

Britta watches him for a second, trying to discern if she should help in some way, but Troy only watches her over the fist he has shoved halfway into his mouth. "I was going to say…" she trails off, bites her lip.

Troy shifts in his seat again before raising his eyebrows impatiently.

She holds up her hand, making a circle with her index finger and thumb. She scrutinizes it for a moment, makes the circle larger and then slightly smaller again. Troy's eyes widen imperceptibly.

"Is this considered large? Y'know, penis-wise," her voice lowers confidentially.

Troy swallows. "How should I know?!"

"You're a football player, I'm sure you see things in the locker room. And you watch porn. So what do you think?" she continues, her voice even enough that Troy can't tell if she has a sliver of shame discussing this subject.

"How do you not know?" he asks, leaning towards her. He was led to believe that she had had plenty of sex.

"Well, Shirley and I disagreed about it," she says, as if that offers any explanation whatsoever.

"It's, um, average," Troy finally offers. He shifts in his seat again, completely forgetting about the dull pulse of pain in his knee in light of his own embarrassment.

"How do you compare?" Britta asks, her eyes immediately widening in shock afterwards. She waves a hand at him, "Sorry, that was inappropriate. I don't want to know." Her cheeks are tinged pink.

Jeff walks in then, his eyes glued to his phone as he sits down and props his feet on the table.

"What's up?" he asks nonchalantly.

Britta starts to say "Nothing," but Troy bursts out, "Bigger."

Two pairs of eyes snap to Troy's face. Both reflect unmistakable shock, but where Britta is mortified, Jeff is just confused.

"Nothing," Troy mumbles, now contemplating pretending that he's asleep.

Britta sinks into her chair more, swiping her tongue along her bottom lip and trying (but failing) to not glance at Troy out of the corner of her eye.


	12. Comparative Religion

**Author's Note:** New drinking game: take a shot every time a character in this drabble says some form of the word "aggression."

* * *

Britta keeps pace with Troy as they leave Shirley to serve Jeff with a guilt trip only a mother could inflict. She's not done insisting that fighting is reflective of unresolved gayness.

"If fighting's not about getting the gay out, what is the point?" she asks, raising an eyebrow in superiority.

"It's about releasing aggression and proving you're better than the other guy," Troy shrugs.

"Aha!" Britta points. "Releasing aggression? How is that not gay?"

"Because aggression is manly!" Troy defends, catching her eye for a moment.

Pierce pipes up then, "Britta's confused about the implications of aggression because she's so aggressive. She doesn't realize how manly it is. Or that she's a lesbian."

"I am not a lesbian!" Britta insists. "And manly or not, aggression means you've been holding something back. Like the fact that two guys are gay for each other."

"Then what does your aggression mean?" Troy asks.

"Britta's aggressive because she's always pretending to be mentally healthy by holding back her emotions," Abed says, his voice taking on that logical tone that means he's psychoanalyzing a member of the group.

"But while we're on the topic of fighting, I feel it should be addressed that verbal arguments are often reflective of sexual tension," Abed continues, but Britta's eyes are still on Troy.

"I am not that aggressive! You're just oversensitive," she accuses.

"I am in touch with my emotions," Troy replies. "We've had this conversation before!" he adds.

Abed looks back and forth between the two. "Usually I would cite Jeff and Britta as an example of unresolved tension, but…" he trails off, knowing that neither of them are listening and Pierce is preoccupied with trying to remove his punching gloves.


	13. Investigative Journalism

**Author's Note:** I apologize if this drabble is a little lackluster, but Troy and Britta had very little involvement in this episode as a whole and it left me uninspired. Besides, this will hopefully lower expectations before the big "Interpretive Dance" drabble gets posted tomorrow.

* * *

It takes a moment or two after Buddy has left for the group to remember that it's study time, but as soon as they do there's a collective sigh and dragging of feet to respective seats. Once they're all sitting, everyone looks around at one another. Buddy wasn't a permanent fixture but he'd certainly left a dent in their group (or at least their egos) and now no one is entirely sure what comes next.

Troy is the first to speak. "You think if we had let him join the group that he'd be taking us all out with a meat tenderizer right now?" he asks morosely. "I always wondered what it would be like to be attacked with a meat tenderizer."

Britta shoots him a disbelieving look. "No, that's ridiculous. Buddy wasn't anything special and he did way more damage than his entertainment was worth. That song he sang?" She looks around at the group. "That song was worse than 'Getting Rid of Britta' and Pierce's song combined."

"Hey!" Pierce calls out in offense.

Britta ignores him. "The point is… what are we upset about, anyway?"

"He chose another group over us," Troy provides, pouting.

"So what? We chose each other over him. Or something," she says. Trying to cheer up the group is making her feel like Jeff, which makes her feel like maybe she's spending way too much time with him and he's rubbing off on her. Britta grimaces.

Troy finally looks up from the table, meeting her eyes in the process. "You're right. And we're awesome!" he grins.

Britta nods somewhat doubtfully, nevertheless glad that Troy's no longer on the brink of tears.


	14. Interpretive Dance

**Author's Note:** To be honest, I'm extremely nervous about this chapter because "Interpretive Dance" is such a big episode for Troy and Britta. Here's hoping I did it justice!

* * *

A singular index finger finds its way to his chest, trails between the indentation of his pectorals. Troy can feel his heart beating against his rib cage, slamming into his lungs on the trip back until he's gasping for air. Her finger travels back up his chest, joined by a flattened palm until she's the only thing holding his heart in place. If she were to move her hand, he's almost sure that his heart would beat right out of his chest. He starts to tell her this, but she shushes him with a brush of golden hair over his lips.

Effectively silenced, Troy leans back and searches out her eyes. Blue, like the calmest ocean on the brink of a storm. Her name is on the tip of his tongue, but before he can call out to her she has him pinned to the bed, her lips holding his own captive. The hand that's holding him together slides from his chest to his neck, and he's falling apart at the seams before he can scream out.

"Britta?" Troy gulps, abruptly sitting up in bed. The head rush that follows forces him to fall back against his pillow, deep breaths drawn from his chest in a desperate attempt to grasp reality.

It was just a dream. The third of its kind since the recital.

At first, Troy hadn't expected anything to change. He'd stepped up to the plate and saved Britta, and the plan was to part ways slightly more amicably than before. But things hadn't gone to plan, because now Troy can't help but feel like he and Britta are inexplicably linked, having shared something that only the two of them can understand.

Sighing, Troy rolls onto his side. All these dreams are leaving him sleep deprived, and still he can't think of a single solution to his problem. Other than spending more time with her. Troy jumps out of bed, the idea flooding him with excitement. All he needs to do is ask her to join another dance class with him, and then maybe the dreams would go away! He nods, stopping when he remembers that no one's actually around to see him nod. Glancing towards the door, he realizes that standing up was also kind of pointless. It's not like he's going to ask her at four in the morning.

* * *

As the members of the study group start filing out of the room after a meeting, Troy hangs back and pulls Britta aside by the sleeve of her gray leather jacket.

"Hey!" she says, confusion and annoyance lacing together.

"Hey," Troy grins innocently. Britta's eyebrows furrow in response, but she doesn't say anything. Troy tilts his head.

"Well?" she prompts impatiently.

"Right. We should take a dance class. Together, this time," he says, more statement than question. She could say "no" to a question; this way, she has less wiggle room.

"Um, okay," Britta replies. She still looks confused, but at least she's not annoyed anymore.

"Okay!" Troy says, his mood significantly brighter. "Oh, but it has to be modern dance. I can't be seen in tap shoes."

Britta rolls her eyes and nods before turning to leave. She's halfway out the door when she turns and looks back at him, gesturing for him to follow. He happily obliges, falling into step with her and trying not to watch her too obviously.


	15. Romantic Expressionism

**Author's Note:** This drabble is more of an indirect one, because it takes place between Troy and Jeff instead of Troy and Britta, but it's rife with hidden crushiness.

* * *

Troy follows Jeff into the library, jogging slightly to keep up with the taller man.

"Hey," Troy starts, slightly perturbed. "Why'd you spill the beans about that Britta thing?"

"Um, because you spilled the beans about the Annie thing." Jeff's voice is condescending, like Troy is a petulant first grader who forgot to read the directions on a homework assignment.

"Right," Troy nods. "Maybe from now on we should keep those kinds of conversations between bros."

Jeff is silent for a moment, considering Troy's words before replying, "How do I know you won't say anything?"

"Because I don't want you to say anything," Troy says. His logic is uncharacteristically sound, and there's almost no chance of Jeff turning down the opportunity. On the off chance that he does, Troy doesn't know what he'll do. There are many things that Troy can talk to Abed about, but this particular subject is beyond him. And there's no way Troy is saying anything to Pierce.

Finally, Jeff nods. "Okay, deal," he decides.

Troy pulls off an inconspicuous fist pump before replying, "Good, because I totally need to talk about the tight black shirt Britta was wearing when you guys told me all that crap about Annie."


	16. Communication Studies

Abed tells him about the imbalance of power between Jeff and Britta before the dance, as some kind of wayward explanation as to why Abed was so obviously hung over. Troy nods, too preoccupied with his own dire situation to care much about the implications behind Abed's words.

In fact, Troy lasts for a large portion of the dance without once thinking about what Abed said. It's not until he glances over from Chang's gyrating and sees Jeff and Britta talking that a pang unlike anything but jealousy pierces his chest. All of the muscles in his body immediately shut down, refusing to cooperate in dancing any longer, and he's left standing stock still. Chang turns around, presumably gearing up to chastise Troy, but Pierce decides to grab Chang by the shoulder at that moment and drag him towards the concession table. Troy snaps out of his trance long enough to nod at Pierce in thanks, and by the time he scans the room for Jeff and Britta again, they're no longer talking. Instead, Jeff is kissing Professor Slater.

Troy turns around desperately, suddenly hit with the unshakable notion that he has to find Britta. He's mid-turn when he feels a tap on his shoulder. When he looks towards the source, he's expecting Chang or Pierce to have returned, but instead he sees Britta staring at him expectantly.

"You okay?" he blurts without a second thought. She winces at that, and he immediately regrets acting like he knows anything has changed.

"I'm fine, dork," she insists. "Are _you_ okay?" she continues, her eyes raking down his form in an obvious appraisal of his lady's pantsuit.

"Just _awesome_."

"Sure," she hums. "Now, should we boogie down or what?"

He shoots her a dubious look because of her word choice, but he still shakes his ass like the good friend he is.


	17. Physical Education

**Author's Note:** This episode is a personal favorite of mine, and it's actually the one that gave me the idea to start this fic in the first place. All the times Britta and Troy were sitting or standing next to each other? Definitely gave me the headcanon that he was saving her seats. Anyway, this chapter makes a lot more sense if you know a little bit about Jo Polniaczek from "Facts of Life," but it should still work even if you don't.

* * *

When Britta walks into the study room on a Wednesday, she finds that no one else has arrived yet. Alarmed, she checks the clock on the wall only to find that she's at least fifteen minutes early. She tries to remember ever being early for anything except for that one Pixies concert that she'd saved for by only eating green beans for a month, but she comes up short.

With a resigned sigh, Britta decides to wait on the couch instead of her usual chair and read a book or something. She's in the process of digging through her bag when she hears the shuffling of feet on carpet and glances towards the door. Her eyebrows pull together at the sight before her: Troy, wearing a jean jacket that exactly matches his pants and an apple red motorcycle helmet.

"Uh… hey, Troy," she starts, waving distractedly.

"What's it to you?" he barks. His actions undermine his words though, because he veers her way and sits right next to her.

Ignoring his impolite behavior, Britta asks, "Did you get a motorcycle?"

"Maybe I did," he says, voice still strangely gruff, like he was losing his voice. Britta can't help but stare, suddenly overcome with a feeling of déjà vu as Troy removes his motorcycle helmet.

"Are you reenacting 'The Facts of Life' with Abed?" she guesses, his demeanor clicking into place.

"Do you see Abed?" Troy returns, shoving his hand in his backpack and pulling out a monkey wrench.

Britta's eyes widen in response, and she covers her mouth in disbelief. "I swear I had a dream just like this when I was twelve."

Troy finally breaks character, a proud grin spreading across his face. "You dig it?"

Britta tilts her head before answering, "Kind of… weird."

His face falls just slightly before he clears his throat. "So it wouldn't work on, y'know, other chicks? Because I was just testing this out. For all the other girls that have weird obsessions with Jo. Yeah…" he trails off.

"I don't have a weird obsession!" Britta is quick to defend herself, Pierce's taunts fresh in her mind. "And how did you know who she was? Aren't you a little young for 'The Facts of Life?'"

"I am very cultured," Troy returns. When Britta shoots him a dubious look, he shrugs and corrects, "Okay, I Wikipedia'd it."

Nodding, Britta says, "You should stick with the football talk. It's much more you."

Shirley walks in then, so Britta stands up to join her at the table and misses Troy's megawatt smile entirely.


	18. Basic Genealogy

**Author's Note:** This is working under the assumption that Nana wanted Troy to get a switch because it was his turn to be punished. Also, I'm very sorry this update is later in the day than usual. It was a crazy day.

* * *

Britta decides to stick with Troy and his Nana - even when it's his turn to have his ass whooped - for moral support. She averts her eyes politely and pretends not to flinch at the crack of wood on skin or Troy's desperate sobs. And when it's all over, she clings to the sleeve of his shirt and drags him out of the classroom and away from Nana.

"You know, you told me I was crazy for respecting her but you did it too," she starts as they walk side by side down the hallway. Maybe she should wait to bring this up, give him some more time to recuperate, but Britta's never been afraid of conflict.

"Yeah, but I have to respect her. You don't," he points out, dragging his feet slightly. She knows from experience now that walking too fast is painful, and she immediately slows her gait.

"I was making a point," Britta shrugs. When she glances at Troy, he gives her a knowing glare. "But like I said: You were right too."

"Uh-huh," he hums. They're both silent for a moment, and Britta thinks the conversation must be over. She's about to veer left to find the potato salad when Troy speaks up again, much more seriously this time, "Even though I don't really get what your point was, other than the fact that you're crazy, I guess it's kind of cool that you stuck to your guns. And look: Now we're not alone in our butt pain."

Britta nods, the corners of her lips turning up in a small grin. "We should really stop by the Health Center or something, because we need salve."

"Uh, yeah," Troy agrees, leading the way.


	19. Beginner Pottery

**Author's Note:** I know nothing about sailing and googling sailing terms served only to confuse me more, so if you know anything about sailing, please excuse any inaccuracies. I'm banking on the idea that the average person will just take this at face value.

* * *

Shirley calls out something about "jibing" and Britta's pretty sure it means she needs to adjust the jib sheet, so she heads towards the back of the boat and grabs at the rope. She's in the middle of mentally debating whether it needs to be untied or not when she feels the warmth of a body radiating just an inch away from her back. Her spine straightens protectively, the possibility of it being Star Burns causing her to brace for attack. Instead, glancing back reveals that it's Troy.

Clearing her throat and shoving at his shoulder, she demands, "What do you think you're doing?" Her heartbeat is increasing erratically, thumping like the hyperactive bunny from _Bambi_, and she thinks it must be because she's irritated. Uncomfortable. Definitely not nervous.

"You're doing it wrong, and I really don't wanna fail now that Pierce is gone," he says, still invading her personal space. She shifts her weight, steps back and then thinks better of it.

"I am not some clueless airhead who needs to be rescued by a masculine counterpart, Troy. I am a capable, modern woman who is going to kick this sailing class's ass," Britta rants, the feminist in her brought to the surface.

"Right. That's why you were just staring at the line," Troy nods, crossing his arms.

"I was processing!"

From a few feet away, Shirley interrupts, "I thought I warned you we were jibing!"

Troy lunges for the jib sheet and Britta follows suit, but once they've both gripped the rope there's no way for either of them to adjust it.

"Let go," Troy demands through gritted teeth.

"I was here first," Britta shoots back. "I can do this." She tries not to be distracted by their close proximity, feels her grip starting to slip and knows her palms are sweating. The weather is decent though, and she's not sweating anywhere else. Weird.

"Kinda like you can fetch a switch?" Troy accuses, and Britta's eyes narrow in response.

"Exactly like that."

"Guys!" Shirley calls, but Britta's focused on maintaining eye contact with Troy. His eyebrows furrow for a moment and then he releases the line and steps back.

"Okay, let's see you do it," he gestures towards the line.

She hesitates before untying it, lessening the length of the rope to adjust the position of the main. Her hands are shaking under the weight of Troy's gaze, and she forces them to behave through sheer force of will. When she reties the line, Britta glances at Troy for reassurance and he nods silently.

"You totally lucked out," he claims before walking away.

Their previous fight is forgotten as a proud smile tugs at her lips.


	20. The Science of Illusion

**Author's Note: **This one's all Troy. Enjoy!

* * *

Later that night, after everyone's tears have dried and Shirley remembers to unlock Jeff's handcuffs, Troy finds that he can't fall asleep. Usually he can lay on his back and count baby footballs and be completely dead to the world within twenty minutes, but tonight is different. Troy's mind is restless, and that in itself is quite alarming. He's not exactly the thinking type. Still, every time he starts in on the fourteenth tiny football, a persistent little thought wriggles its way around the wrinkles in his brain until its at the forefront of his mind.

Was he part of the reason Britta attempted what turned out to be a disastrous prank? He had told her she was a fun vampire, an insult far worse than anything anyone else had said. And he'd said it without a second thought, devoid of remorse. Sometimes those kinds of words just slipped out around her, but he never really means them, does he? Sure, it can be frustrating that he no longer finds her rants all that annoying or that she wouldn't even have to cut her hair for him to be willing to sleep with her or that she literally notices none of these changes. But words are just words, and Troy doesn't mean any harm. Besides, Jeff says way meaner things to her on a daily basis.

Then again, Troy's not Jeff, and he never will be. Certainly not to Britta.

Shifting onto his side, Troy squeezes his eyes tightly closed until the fuzzy remnants of light from his Buzz Lightyear nightlight are seared behind his eyelids. Knowing that the nightlight was watching over him always used to give him such peace of mind. Now it was just an irritating beacon of light, slicing through the darkness and invading his eyesight.

Flopping onto his back once more, Troy decides it doesn't even matter whether he meant to hurt Britta or not. After all, he wouldn't have had any reservations about what he said to her before the recital all those weeks ago. And nothing had _really_ changed since then. Not on Britta's end, anyway.

Troy huffs out a breath of air before clambering out of bed and yanking his nightlight out of its socket.


	21. Contemporary American Poultry

**Author's Note:** Depending on the outcome of tonight's episode, today might be a double-update. Anyway, this takes place sometime while Abed is still in charge of the chicken finger ring.

* * *

She wakes up feeling extra irritable on a random Tuesday, for no reason other than the fact that she couldn't find the shirt she wanted to wear and her rent is due tomorrow and her car is almost out of gas. Even so, she manages to just barely make it to school during the last five minutes of the study group's regularly scheduled meet-up.

Walking into the study room reveals that everyone's already left for lunch, except Troy's stupid monkey is sitting in its cage and staring at her. Feeling a little creeped out, she shifts her weight and locks eyes with "Annie's Boobs." If anything, she could beat a poorly named monkey at a staring contest.

Sure enough, only a moment passes before the monkey breaks eye contact and begins gnawing on its own foot. Grimacing, Britta turns to leave the room and almost collides with Troy's chest.

"You're not at lunch?" she asks, though the answer is obvious.

"A dude can only eat chicken fingers every day in a row for so long," he shrugs. "I went to get Annie's Boobs caviar."

"Yeah, about your monkey. You know I normally love all of nature's creatures and am a dedicated advocate for their rights," she doesn't miss Troy rolling his eyes, "but that monkey is seriously scary. And did you have to name it Annie's Boobs? Not that I would condone the alternatives, but why not Shirley's Boobs or Britta's Boobs? The name serves a dual purpose of being both sexist and alienating."

She finishes with a cross of her arms, eyebrows furrowed in malcontent. Though hearing him refer to the monkey as "Annie's Boobs" is starting to grate on her nerves, there is a minuscule part of her that knows she is only taking her frustration out on Troy because he is the only one around. Of course, the rest of her just wants to rip everyone's heads off.

"Uh…" Troy starts, squinting his eyes in that way that means he is thinking too hard. "Firstly, I told all of you that Annie's Boobs' name was decided by Twitter. Secondly… Are you jealous or something?"

"What?" Britta scoffs, and if she weren't so annoyed she'd find the notion entertaining. "No, I think the name is offensive on several levels."

"Oh," he nods, and he almost looks disappointed. "That does make more sense."

She shakes her head to clear it of the confusion his response causes, wanting to focus on the matter at hand. "Anyway, I'd appreciate it if I was not subjected to any alone time with… the monkey."

"Annie's Boobs has as much right to be here as you do," Troy insists.

"Fine, but I don't want to be alone with it," she says.

"Fine!"

"Double fine!"

They stare at one another for a beat before Britta turns on her heel, marching away from the scene slightly less irritable than when she started the day, but irritable nevertheless.


	22. The Art of Discourse

**Author's Note:** I'm very excited for this chapter and the next one, because they were written at a time when I was feeling very inspired and so I'm actually pleased with the outcome. I hope you enjoy them as well!

* * *

An unfortunate spray of mashed potatoes whizzes by Troy's ear, narrowly missing the leaves on his head that stick out at odd directions. His eyes follow in the direction that he thinks the mashed potatoes came from, and when he spots his next target he scoops up a handful of jell-o and fires. When the jell-o collides with a random frat boy's nose, Troy fist pumps before side-stepping an onslaught of peas and searching out a new target. He picks up a tray to utilize as a shield, blocking a mix of meat loaf and ice cream.

Glancing to his right, Troy notices the high school girl that Jeff and Britta had been mocking tip-toeing behind Britta, preparing to pour a vat of melted ice cream over her head. With a new goal in mind, Troy simultaneously dodges flying food and hurries to Britta's side.

He arrives just in time, knocking the vat back with his tray as the girl begins precariously tipping it. It rotates back violently enough that instead of coming anywhere near Britta, a mess of sticky chocolate and vanilla swirl coats the high school girl's head and shoulders. Sputtering, she starts to step forward and slips on a pool of gravy, falling back with an "oomph."

Troy looks to Britta again, grinning at the quirk of her eyebrow and what he perceives to be gratitude in her wide eyes.

"Wow, thanks," she breathes. Troy's smile grows.

"I'm kind of awesome." He puffs his chest out. She starts to laugh, but just then an entire hamburger collides with her cheek. Troy immediately searches out the general area where it came from, and when his eyes land on that Mark kid, he knows who Britta's assailant is.

Troy glances at the table next to him, finding an orange and chucking it as hard as he can at Mark's head. Fortunately, being a quarterback means that he very rarely misses. This is no exception.


	23. Modern Warfare

**Author's Note:** I figured I'd post this early because I won't be around until much later today. This drabble's between Troy and Annie and includes hints at their feelings about the whole Jeff/Britta dynamic. Also, I shaded in a little foreshadowing for everyone's favorite bottle episode. Enjoy!

* * *

Troy heads towards the parking lot, dejectedly shuffling his feet along as he goes. He steps in a small puddle of yellow paint, smears it around with the sole of his shoe before continuing on his way. It's not until he sees his car and reaches for his keys that he realizes he left his backpack, keys included, back at the study room. Sighing, he turns back that way and jogs past the math club with his hands raised in surrender.

When he reaches the study room, he finds that it's not as torn up as he'd expected. Sure, there are some overturned chairs and a couple of paint splotches, but nothing too bad.

Walking over to the couch, Troy remembers that he'd stuck his backpack underneath it in a hurried reaction to all of the chaos. He squats and sticks his hand under the couch, feeling around for material.

Just as his tongue pokes out in concentration, Annie walks into the room. "What are you doing?" she says, eyebrows furrowed.

"Trying to find - Ah-ha!" he exclaims, dragging his backpack out and holding it up like a trophy. "Found my backpack!"

Annie nods, humoring him somewhat, and then skips over to the table.

"What are you doing here?" he says, following her while slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

"I realized I was missing a pen and figured I'd loop back and try to find it," she explains, shrugging.

"In the middle of an all-out paintball war?" he asks dubiously.

She looks down bashfully. "I don't like not having all of my supplies organized."

Though Troy thinks that's pretty odd, he decides not to comment on it. Instead, he offers, "I'll help you look."

Annie shoots him a grin and they separate, looking under and around the table in companionable silence.

Troy's in the middle of crawling under the table like a dog when Annie decides to speak up again. "Is it me, or are Jeff and Britta more unbearable than usual?"

Caught off guard, Troy tries to stand up and smacks his head on the bottom of the table. "Ouch," he breathes, rubbing at what is sure to form a knot on his scalp. After a moment, he realizes he should answer her and backs out from under the table as he mutters, "It's not just you."

"It's like… every study session is full of tension between them. And it's not like I care, or anything, but it makes it really difficult to get anything done." She sighs and adds, "It's really annoying, isn't it?"

Standing, Troy is finally able to look at Annie. She keeps shifting her weight from one foot to another, and her hands are clasped in front of her in a protective fashion.

"Yeah, it's pretty annoying," Troy agrees. "But what can _we_ do about it?"

"I don't know…" Annie trails off. She meets his eyes then, and her own widen worriedly. "Do you think they need to relieve some tension or something?"

Troy swallows, considering the implication behind her words and deciding he's not a fan. "Maybe," he admits, circling around the table and sitting on it next to where Annie's standing. She joins him and sighs loudly.

"How gross would it be if they had sex during the game?" she asks, scrunching up her nose.

"So gross," Troy laughs. Annie joins in, but after a beat the mirth dies on their tongues until Troy only tastes ash, grimy and unforgiving. Now neither of them knows what to say, too preoccupied with staring at the way the carpet, once solid blue, bleeds a multitude of neon colors.

"Well, I can't find my pen," Annie says, and she sounds like maybe there's something stuck in her throat. Troy realizes he has the same problem and he can't speak, so he just nods at her.

"See you later?" she asks.

"Yeah," he manages to mumble. They leave through opposite doors. As he walks, his head won't stop pounding, like his brain is trying to escape from his skull.


	24. English as a Second Language

**Author's Note:** I apologize for the lack of an update yesterday, but I went to a Little Mix meet and greet and essentially got to meet my idols. Concentrating on anything else was not an option. Anyway, this drabble takes place before the first scene after the credits.

* * *

Britta is one of the first of a handful of students to arrive in Spanish class, so she takes her seat quietly and tries not to make eye contact with anyone that might want to talk to her. A minute later, the Dean's horrid animal sounds start up and this time it's her worst nightmare: monkey screeches. Yelping, Britta covers her ears and then bites down on her bottom lip. As much as she wishes she couldn't, she can still hear the obnoxious calls. She presses into her ears harder, but this only leads to a dull pulse that starts at her forehead and spreads into a full-on headache.

Britta's on the verge of seriously considering praying when Troy walks through the door, heading to his usual seat two rows over from her.

"Oh, finally," she sighs, and then calls, "Troy! Come here!"

His head pivots her way in surprise, and he furrows his eyebrows before finally approaching her.

"Uh, yeah?" he asks, still obviously perplexed.

"I need you to distract me," she explains. "Here, sit down." She motions to the chair behind her.

"Distract you… how? And from what?" he says. He seems a great deal more reluctant than she had expected, and though she tries not to let it bother her, she can't help but feel a little bit hurt.

She blinks hard before answering, "From the monkey noises. And I don't care how, I just can't stand them."

Troy considers her words for a moment, and while his eyes are searching her face she unconsciously pushes out her bottom lip just slightly. He relents at that, sliding into the seat behind her and placing his palms down on the desk.

"Alright," he starts, and then stops to think of something to say. His facial features appear to freeze as his eyes focus in on the wall behind her, and after a long moment has passed, Britta begins to feel restless.

"Hello?" she starts, and Troy's head snaps up.

"Got it!" he announces, grinning proudly. "Okay, why did the chicken cross the road?"

Britta sighs and rolls her eyes. "Troy," she warns.

"No, go with it," he insists.

She holds his gaze for a second and then decides to humor him. "Okay. Why?"

"Because you were on the other side," he finishes, and he must feel pretty smooth because a slow smirk spreads from one corner of his mouth to the other.

Laughter erupts from low in Britta's gut, filling her with a lightness that carries away her headache.

"Good one," she compliments, patting his forearm. Troy maintains his crooked smile until a large man walks up to him, his figure looming over Troy threateningly.

"That's my seat," he grunts.

Britta watches Troy swallow and attempt to put up a brave front. "Yeah, you think we could switch? For good." Troy's eyes flicker Britta's way.

The man shifts his weight and Troy's façade cracks as he folds into himself and squeaks, "I'm too young to die."

"No, that's cool," the guy shrugs and then backs off, finding another seat.

Britta purses her lips at Troy and nods as if she's impressed. "For good, huh?"

"Face it, I did a good job distracting you from the soundtrack," Troy deflects.

Settling on conceding, Britta replies, "Yeah, but now you just reminded me that it's still playing."

Realization dawns and Troy starts to apologize, but just as he opens his mouth the sound shuts off. Contented, Britta turns back towards the front of the room and realizes that the rest of the students have filed in already because class is about to start.


	25. Pascal's Triangle Revisited

**Author's Note:** I know, I missed another day. I apologize and offer you this extra long drabble in peace. Please enjoy!

* * *

Troy watches the drama between Jeff, Britta, and Slater unfold, though really he's watching Britta's face for any sign that she's not serious. That this whole ordeal is one of those not-funny jokes she sometimes tries to pull, and at the end of the night, she would take back everything. Of course, all Troy can see painted on her face is something akin to disappointment. He wishes he didn't know what it meant, but there's an incessant thought at the back of his mind that keeps reminding him she's disappointed because Jeff's not responsive. More than that, Jeff is literally slinking away.

Irritation claws up Troy's chest, shredding his insides until he's grinding his teeth. He wants to be irritated at Abed still, to convince himself that conflict is still a viable one, but deep down Troy is well aware that any annoyance he feels now is directed at Jeff. Because Jeff? Jeff is the reason Britta's eyes have glistened over.

Shaking his head, Troy scans the room for Abed. Maybe all he needs is a proper distraction in the form of a Kickpuncher marathon.

Spotting Abed in a corner of the room, Troy marches his way and announces, "I'm moving in with Pierce." He forces a smile, shoving down the storm of emotion brewing inside of him.

"Congratulations," Abed replies, and though his voice is as robotic as ever, he appears pleased.

Troy nods amicably, glancing Britta's way out of habit only to perform a panicked double take. She's no longer there. His eyes frantically search out the crowd, and he realizes that while he'd been busy finding Abed, she'd snuck out of the auditorium.

"What is it?" Abed asks, looking in the same directions as Troy. "Are we reenacting Alien v Predator? Dibs on Alien!"

"No, no," Troy shakes his head. "It's just," he pauses, reconsidering what he should say. "Well, Britta disappeared and as her friends shouldn't we go find her and comfort her? She's probably upset or something."

Abed appraises him with wide eyes. "I don't know, should we go comfort her? I suppose we could be the Duckies to her Andie like Pretty in Pink, but I'm not a fan of sharing roles."

Troy furrows his eyebrows, distracted by whether he'd actually seen that movie or not. "Whatever," he sighs, "Let's just go after her."

Walking side by side, Troy and Abed scour the area surrounding the cafeteria and are completely luckless until they come upon a bench that is partially hidden by a tree covered in twinkle lights. Upon closer inspection, they spot a blonde mop of hair tucked into black fabric.

"Britta?" Troy starts, approaching her very slowly. Abed is only a step behind, obviously looking to Troy for the proper social cues.

"I'm fine," she says, her voice cracking and muffled because her head is still resting on her knees.

"Right," Troy replies, trying not to sound too doubtful. "Then you don't mind if I just… sit next to you." She doesn't reply, so he sits on the opposite side of the bench. Abed looks lost for a moment, but then he decides to sit in between them until a three-person sandwich is jammed into the bench.

Troy shoots Abed a warning glare, briefly considering whether he should explain to him why that wasn't the best idea. The thought is cut short when Britta readjusts and then throws her arms around Abed's neck, resting her head against his shoulder.

Troy immediately regrets choosing to give her space rather than sitting directly next to her.

"So," he starts, feeling extremely uncomfortable. This time, Abed shoots him a look.

"Can we just be quiet for a while?" Britta mumbles against Abed's shoulder. Troy nods even though she can't see him, and as he awkwardly shifts around on the bench, Britta releases her closest arm and clasps his hand with her own.


End file.
